Sabrina’s POV
I turned and looked at Archie. “Is that what you want as well?”
The man who had once knelt beside my hospital bed, a velvet box in his hand, shaking with nerves and joy.
“I know it’s not a ring,” he’d said, voice thick with emotion. “But I want you to have it. You’ll be my one and only, Sabrina. My Mrs. Valez.”
We were happy then, foolishly and stupidly.
After Elly, Sally had tried to take it back. But Archie stood his ground back then. Said it belonged to me. The mother of his child.
And now? Now he just looked at the floor.
“Sabrina,” he murmured, not meeting my eyes, “why don’t you give it to Betty? I’ll buy you another one…”
That was all I needed to hear.
“You can have it.”
I unclasped the necklace, my fingers trembling only slightly. I hadn’t taken it off in years. It had become part of me.
And now, with its absence, came something I hadn’t felt in a long, long time.
Freedom.
I placed it on the table without a word.
Then, in a room full of Valez and their judgmental stares, I walked out with my daughter in my arms.
I didn’t look back. Not once.
…
It wasn’t until we were back home that Elly finally broke.
She clutched my arm, her little voice wobbling. “Mommy, does Daddy not want us anymore? Why did you say… he died?”
My heart cracked in two.
I gathered her into my arms and held her tight, rocking her gently. “Oh, baby,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to her soft curls. “You still have me. Mommy’s not going anywhere. I’ll always be by your side. Always.”
She sniffled into my chest, and I grabbed a tissue to wipe her tears. Then I looked into her big, tear-streaked eyes—the ones she got from him—and forced myself to smile.
“Mommy has a question for you.”
She blinked up at me, curious. “What is it?”
“Do you want to leave here with me? Go somewhere new?” I paused. “It’s my old home. We can have more toys, more sunshine… and more people to love you. Mommy’s been a little homesick, you know?”
She tilted her head, thinking. “Can we bring Daddy with us?”
My heart twisted again. I stroked her hair and gently corrected her, “No, baby. He can’t come with us. And remember—he’s Mr. Valez now, okay?”
She gave a little pout, on the verge of tears again. “Then can we at least have one more Christmas with him? Please? Just one?”
I’d already booked our tickets for Christmas Eve. But looking at her—at the way her lower lip trembled—I couldn’t bear to say no.
So I nodded. “Okay,” I said softly. “I’ll call Mr. Valez and see if we can plan something. Just for you.”
…
One day left until Christmas.
I’d called Archie earlier, told him Elly wanted to spend an early holiday with him. It was the least he could do—after everything that happened at the Valez mansion.
Deep down, I guess I still wanted Elly to have a little piece of happiness before we left this city—and her father—for good.
She’d been glowing all morning, cheeks pink from excitement. Giggling as she twirled in the new princess dress I bought her.
“Mommy!” she beamed, “When is Dad—uh, Mr. Valez—coming? I wanna show him my dance! And decorate the tree! And bake the cake! And I learned a new song on the piano—he’s gonna love it!”
I smiled, brushing flour from her nose. “Hold on, honey. Let me call him now, okay? Just wait here for Mommy.”
I grabbed my phone from the couch and stepped out onto the balcony. The sky was pale gray, snow threatening to fall. I hit Archie’s number.
No answer.
Figures.
So I sent a message instead: Elly is waiting. How long do you need?
We waited another hour.
Elly kept peeking out the window, her little nose pressed to the glass, the excitement she’d worn so brightly this morning slowly dimming.
I texted again: Are you serious? You made a promise.
Still nothing.
Elly turned to me, her voice softer now. “Did Mr. Valez forget today?”
“No, baby,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “He’s just caught up in something. He’ll be here soon.”
She gave me a smile—brave, wobbly, heartbreaking. “Let’s eat cake, Mommy. If Mr. Valez’s still busy, we can start without him.”
She stood on tiptoes and kissed my cheek, warm and sticky from frosting. “I’m happy I have you.”
It was the first time she didn’t slip and call him Daddy.
Maybe even a child could recognize when her father was nothing more than a ghost in a nice suit.
Elly bounced back faster than I did. She helped me frost the caramel cake we’d made together, placed the last glittering ornament on the
